


Grace

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 05:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Hotch gets sick, and learns a lesson that is a long time coming.  (Brought over from my account at Fanfiction.net.  9 chapters in all, will bring them along as I can.)





	1. Chapter 1

"He had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once."  
― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere

____________________________________

The world had been unkind to Aaron Hotchner, but still he persisted. He woke up every day and drank a cup of coffee, put on a freshly pressed suit and straightened his tie. Day in, day out. The world was unkind to him, but still he fought to right the wrongs of others. To put the monsters where they belonged: behind bars. He did it because it was a part of who he was.

This morning, though, was different. It was a rare morning when he woke up and knew he was off. He was sick. He'd seen it coming, Jack had been sick last week; he was always bringing something home from school. Usually Aaron didn't catch the bugs, but he knew he did this time. Before he'd gone to bed, his throat was dry and his lower back ached, but he brushed it off as just being the end of a long hard week. This morning, though, he felt run down and his body ached just as he lay in bed. He rolled over to take a sip of water and erupted in a fit of deep, guttural dry coughs. He doubled over in his bed as he coughed, his muscles tightening painfully.

"Dad?" Jack asked, entering his father's room. "Can I go to Jason's after school tonight? They're having pizza for dinner and invited me over."

"Sure, buddy," Aaron replied, hearing his own voice for the first time. He was hoarse, his throat was painful and raspy. "You going to stay over?"

"Yeah, if it's ok. You sick?"

Aaron glanced over at him and gave him a smile. "Seems like it. Thanks a lot for that. Good thing it's Friday, huh?"

Jack laughed and sat down on his dad's bed for a minute. Aaron couldn't believe how grown up his son was looking these days. "Want me to see if I can stay the weekend? His mom said she'd take us to practice tomorrow if I stayed the night, anyway."

"I'll call her and ask, buddy. I guess this means you don't want to take care of me like I took care of you, huh? Rude. So rude." Aaron rolled on his side and closed his eyes. The longer he was awake, the more like roadkill he felt. His bed was warm, the blankets pulled up to his chin, but he felt chilly.

"Can I get you anything before I catch the bus?" Jack asked, standing up and hiking his backpack over one shoulder. He was getting so tall, and looking more like Haley every single day. Hotch gazed at his son for a moment and smiled. Sometimes he couldn't believe he had a hand in making such an incredible person.

"I can handle it. Don't worry about me, by the time you get home on Sunday night I'll be right as rain. I'm just going to sit around here naked all weekend eating ice cream." He chuckled a little, followed by a deep dry cough. Jack scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad gross." He replied, pretending to gag. "Bye dad. Love you!" he called, making his way out of the room before his dad could say anything else that might make it worse.

____________________________________

"Rossi speaking," came the soft voice on the other end of the line. Aaron could tell he was driving and had him on speaker phone. He loathed speaker phone. You never knew who was listening. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, it's Aaron. Is anyone with you?" he asked, his voice soft and dry.

"Just me, Aaron. What can I do for you?"

"I'll be working from home today, Dave. I just wanted to call and let you know." Aaron paused, hoping Rossi wouldn't prod him, but knowing full well that he would. It was his way. There was silence for a minute, then Aaron coughed a long, dry, painful sounding cough, and Rossi made a soft noise of understanding.

"I see." Rossi replied. "Can I bring you anything?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm going to get some sleep for a while, but I'll be checking messages when I wake up. I'm going to forward incoming case files to you for a few hours, if you don't mind, I don't want to…" he paused, coughing again. "I don't want to miss anything while I'm sleeping."

"Understood. Get some rest, friend."

"Dave?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell the team I'm sick, "Aaron pleaded, his voice soft and almost sad sounding. "I don't want anyone coming by. Jack's going to be at a friend's house all weekend and I'm planning to lay low and try to sleep this off. I expect to be in a NyQuil coma until Sunday night."

"I'll do my best to keep them off your scent." Rossi replied, hanging up after a moment. He knew the team would be suspicious, and he wouldn't lie to them, but he figured at the very least he could ask them to respect his friend's privacy. Whether they would listen was a different story all-together.


	2. Chapter 2

And like a hero who takes the stage when  
We're on the edge of our seats saying it's too late  
Well let me introduce you to grace  
\- MercyMe "Flawless"

______________________________________

The apartment was so quiet and still as Aaron padded from his bedroom to the kitchen, wads of Kleenex jammed up his nose. He felt like a zombie, his body barely moving like that of a living person. Every part of him felt stiff and sore, he was running a fever, his stomach was churning with every step. He was, by all intents and purposes, a complete disaster. It was Saturday afternoon, and he'd spent all of Friday night huddled around the toilet, losing everything he'd eaten for at least the last 10 years, by his calculations. This wasn't Jack's bug, he thought miserably as he crossed his small home. This was Hell.

After what seemed like months, he reached the kitchen and leaned against the counter exhausted. He put his head down and closed his eyes, remembering how Haley used to take care of him when he was sick. She was always so kind. He filled his water glass halfway and took a sip, the cool liquid stinging his inflamed throat. He winced as he took another sip. Jack had called him twice to check in the night before, and already once today, which made him feel awful. That poor boy had to grow up too fast, and Aaron hated knowing his son carried that burden. He was glad to know that Jack was out being a child this weekend instead of caring for his sick father, even if his sick father could have used the help. As he turned and began shuffling back to his bedroom, he heard a knock on his door. He cringed and stopped in his tracks.

"It's just me, Aaron," Rossi called through the door. Aaron sighed and moved slowly toward the door, unlocking the series of bolts he'd had for years now. Foyet may have been long gone, but his anxiety would never go away. He would never truly feel safe again.

"Hi, Dave, " he said rather pitifully, opening the door for his friend. Rossi looked Hotch up and down and his face fell. It was hard to see anyone sick, but to see a man of Hotch's usual stature and demeanor this way was almost too much.

"I've got to say, Aaron, you don't look too good…" Rossi started, entering the apartment with a few bags in his arms. Aaron closed the door behind him and raised an eyebrow.

"You're not such a looker yourself," he replied, moving toward the couch. He was getting dizzy and faint, his stomach doing flip flops. He'd not been on his feet this long in nearly a whole day and it was wearing on him.

"Have you taken your temperature today?" Rossi called as he unloaded his bags on the kitchen counter. Aaron shook his head, pulling a blanket around his shoulders and leaning back into the couch.

"No," he replied, closing his eyes. "And I hadn't planned to. Don't want to know."

"Too bad."

A few moments later, Rossi appeared holding a thermometer and asked Aaron to open his mouth wide. Reluctantly, Aaron agreed. When the thermometer beeped, Rossi looked at it and then back at Aaron concerned.

"103.3, Aaron. We need to cool you down." Rossi left the room for a moment, and came back to place a cool washcloth on his friend's forehead. It felt like heaven. "If your fever gets much higher, we are going to the hospital."

"I'm fine Dave," Aaron said softly, enjoying the cool wet cloth on his face. Small droplets of water fell over his closed eyes, catching in his thick eyelashes. "It's just the flu. People get the flu all the time."

"Hungry?" Dave asked, heading back toward the kitchen. Aaron's stomach lurched at the thought of food.

"No."

"When did you eat last?"

"I don't know."

Rossi looked at his friend, concern washing over him. "You don't know? Did you eat yesterday?"

"No."

"The day before?"

"Yes." Aaron replied curtly, his hand rubbing his stomach gingerly. Talk of food was not helping him. Silently he was willing Dave to stop asking, but his friend was only trying to help and he didn't want to be rude. As much as he didn't want any company this weekend, he was glad not to be dying alone…because he was sure that he was dying.

"How about I make you some tea, or a milkshake or a smoothie? Do you think you could drink something with some substance to it? How about my famous chicken soup?" Rossi asked, peering across the room at his friend and waving a mason jar filled with broth at him. Aaron swallowed hard.

"Don't think I'm ready for that yet," he said, his breathing becoming shallow as he fought the urge to run to the bathroom. He could taste the bile in his mouth, the burning rising to the back of his throat. "No food Dave."

"How about a popsicle? Might make your throat -" he began, but Aaron cut him off sharply.

"No," came Aaron's reply as he stood suddenly and rushed as quickly as he could to the bathroom. He barely made it before he was dry heaving into the sink, hunched over. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his body shook, goosebumps covered his arms. Nothing but hot bile came out, there was nothing left inside of him. Rossi followed him to the bathroom, but kept his distance, he was here to help but not to intrude.

"Hospital, Aaron. It's time."

Aaron slumped over the sink in defeat, resting his cheek against the cold marble of the counter. He didn't want to go, but he didn't have the energy to protest. He wasn't able to keep down even liquids, his fever was getting higher, and his throat was on fire. Maybe they could just put him out of his misery.

"I'll get your go bag – usual place?" Rossi asked, leaving his friend for a moment. "Should we call Jack?"

"No. Don't call him. I'll call Jason's mom later. " Aaron groaned, attempting to stand. He looked himself up and down, deciding that pajama bottoms and a t-shirt were perfectly acceptable attire to arrive at the ER in, and shrugged. Rossi brought him a pair of tennis shoes to slip on and hung a jacket around his shoulders. "Thanks, Dave."


End file.
